


Portrait d'Homme Noble

by lumbeam



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (dusts off art degree), Art History, Class Differences, Gen, Human AU, M/M, One Shot, Painting, Portraits, court painter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 15:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: Connor Arkait, one of Carl Manfred's understudies, is assigned to paint a portrait of one of the King's noblemen, Henry "Hank" Anderson.





	Portrait d'Homme Noble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeepGrandCherokeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeepGrandCherokeeper/gifts).



> I wrote this a couple months ago but after receiving Bee's amazing gift I felt compelled to post this! Enjoy! :)

“Henry, I need to insist that you don’t move while I work.”

_“Ugh,_ the pose you’ve chosen is so uncomfortable. I don’t understand why I’m sitting sideways.”

“It’s what the King wants.”   
  
Henry was sitting upright in one of the king’s gold foiled chairs. The painting session began about an hour ago, and the pain was shooting through his back. He kept slouching, much to the court painter’s chagrin.    
  
“I’ll work on something else and you can sit back. But only a little. I need to have your outfit relatively unwrinkled.” He furrowed his brows, his eyes darting between his subject and the canvas. He mixed royal blue and white oil paint together on his messy painters palette. He matched the color of Henry’s silk overcoat. 

Henry relaxed a little, the buttons of his coat stretching across his soft belly as he slouched. As the new discomfort took over, he cursed slightly at the king insisting upon having his staff, even a nobility like Henry, painted to hang up in the dining room. Well, one of the  _ many _ dining rooms. Not meant for the King and Queen to see, however. He kept his hands relaxed on his lap as he continued to look forward at the painter.

He was certainly young, or at least young-looking. His outfit was simple, no frills and no exaggerated proportions. If anything, it looked like it was a few years out of style, as if it was passed down to him. His curly brown hair was out of his face, save for a single lock that hung in the middle of his forehead. His expression, concentrated and frantic, only made Henry more curious about him.   
  
“What was your name again?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“Connor,” he said as he switched out his brush. “Connor Arkait.”   
  
“How come I haven’t seen you before? This is quite an undertaking. Are you doing all the portraits?”   
  
Connor smiled at the question, making his brown eyes sparkle in the sunlit room. “No, definitely not. I’m Manfred’s assistant.”   
  
That name sounded familiar. “Ah, Carl Manfred?”   
  
“Yes. He’s been newly appointed as the King’s court painter. I work in his studio with his adopted son and a couple of other students.” Connor wiped his temple, leaving behind a spot of blue paint. It was hard for Henry to draw his eyes away from this. 

“And how long have you been painting, Mr. Arkait?”   
  
Connor thinks for a moment, the brush strokes on the canvas filling in the dead air. “For as long as I can remember. Probably as long as you’ve been a Nobleman.”   
  
Henry nods at this, smirking. “I was only born into this role, Connor. You worked for your status with your talent.”

“Talent is a myth, Henry. Practice, however…” Connor mixed black and white together. Working on Henry’s hair now, undoubtedly. “Besides, I wouldn’t say I’m exactly privileged.” 

Henry stroked his beard. “But you’re an assistant court painter, surely that counts for something.”

Connor painted Henry’s pulled back locks of hair. “Not really.” He said quietly.    
  
“Well, I mean, at the very least will your name be on this portrait you’re doing?”

“All work I do is signed under Manfred’s name. It’s  _ his  _ studio after all.”

Henry scoffed. “How frustrating. Does that bother you?”

Connor clenched his jaw. His face betrayed his answer. “I don’t mind it. When Carl Manfred signs his name, it’s an approval of the work I’ve done more than anything. It shows I’ve mastered his style.”   
  
Henry slouched again. “But what about  _ your _ style?”   
  
“You seem to ask a lot of questions,” Connor deflected.

“I’m just making conversation.” He said, twirling the rings on his fingers.   
  
“Well, there’s no more need to ‘make conversation.’ The session is done.” Connor wiped off his paintbrushes. “Would you like to see?”   
  
“Certainly.” Henry stood with a groan as he walked over to the canvas. He rubbed at his lower back. He stopped right next to Connor, noticing the slight difference in height between them. 

The portrait was certainly in its early stages of development, the lines of charcoal still showing through the raw canvas. The brush strokes have already started to form Henry’s face and pose. His silk overcoat has taken the most shape thus far. Henry nodded approvingly, glancing over at Connor’s face. He seemed eager for some feedback.   
  
“I hope it’s to your liking thus far, Henry.” 

“It’s _spectacular.”_ Henry looked at the spot of paint on Connor’s temple. Without considering anything else, he rubbed his thumb across the spot, wiping part of the paint off Connor’s skin. “Since we’ll be seeing each other again, from now on you can call me Hank.”

“Hank.” Connor said his name with a sigh. Hank loved to hear the way it rolled off of his lips. “I look forward to our next session.”


End file.
